


coming home

by ratsauce



Category: Harry Styles (Musician), Louis Tomlinson (Musician), One Direction (Band)
Genre: ??? - Freeform, Come Kink, Dirty Talk, FIFA World Cup 2018, M/M, Masturbation, Phone Sex, Praise Kink, Semi-public masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-18
Updated: 2018-07-18
Packaged: 2019-06-12 13:02:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15340431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ratsauce/pseuds/ratsauce
Summary: Something in Harry's tone brings Louis back to the last time they were intimate with each other. He sucks suck in small breath as his cock twitches, before it starts filling up, and Louis pushes the door closed before leaning his back against it."Talk me off, love, please?"





	coming home

**Author's Note:**

> Pls notice and appreciate the pun in the title?
> 
> Listen, this isn’t supposed to reflect what actually happened, but I tried to stay as canonical as I could! I also tried to keep this vanilla but I dunno, I don’t have a vanilla bone in me body. Let me know if you guys want more “vanilla” fics in the future tho. I endeavoured to space out the smut to make sure that it’s realistic and that. I have another CLEAR obsession with Louis’ accent so look out for dat too.
> 
> Remember that UK uses 24-hour time so all my fics will have that time format in them. The term A.M. and P.M. don’t really exist, so when I say three I mean three in the morning. If I meant three in the afternoon I’d have said fifteen hours, and so on. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

Louis wakes up at around half twelve and he’s _excited_ , immensely so, which hasn’t really happened since before Harry left to tour North America. He usually stays asleep until mid-afternoon and he always wakes feeling like absolute rubbish, but today? Today, he’s energetic, flying up out of bed to make himself a cuppa and something to eat.

The reason for his excitement is because football’s coming home! His boys are playing their match today, and Louis just knows they’ll make it to the finals. They’ve been playing spectacularly all season and they’re as close to the cup now as Louis has ever seen them. It’s the first time in _twenty-eight_ years that England has made it to the semi-finals. Louis considers tweeting something about that as he brushes his teeth, just to get the fans going mad.

He has a quick, perfunctory wank in the shower, just because he can, before taking his sweet time lathering and pampering himself in preparation for the day ahead of him. Once he exits his glass shower with a billow of steam, he reaches for two towels, wrapping his soaked hair in one and using the other to dry his body. Once he’s no longer dripping, he picks his phone up from where he’d left it on top of the toilet tank. Checking the time, he’s unsurprised to find that he’s managed to waste near three hours moving around the house getting ready. It’s now almost seven in Seattle where Harry is, and Louis knows that his husband is up, beginning his day by going for a jog or working out in the hotel gym.

He rings the younger man on FaceTime, hoping desperately that he’ll answer, because Harry has a tendency to put his phone on airplane mood while he works out and Louis really needs to hear from him before he goes out. The phone rings for quite a while, though, so long that Louis assumes that he’s not going to get him, and he deflates.

“Lou!” Harry’s breathless, voice comes a second later, and Louis frowns when his phone screen remains dark.

“Good morning, love. What are you doing?” Louis asks, tying the towel around his waist single-handedly before walking out of the hot bathroom. He pouts, because he still can’t see Harry at all, but he can pick up the tell-tale sound of a running treadmill.

“Hang on, love.” Harry pants, his voice sounding a bit strained. There’s some shuffling on his end and Louis sees what looks like fingers splayed over the camera. There’s a final clunk before Harry’s running form, beaming face and sweaty chest comes into view, and Louis whistles quietly at the sight of him.

“Fuck, babe. Give a man some warnin’, could ya?” Louis admired, his eyes trained on Harry’s toned body as he jogs on the treadmill. His view is unstable as Harry’s phone jerks with the movement of the machine it’s propped up on, but Louis can still clearly see the way Harry’s muscles are shifting under his skin as he works, and he wants to get his mouth on him.

He swallows down the sudden build-up of saliva in his mouth and shakes his head, trying to clear the cloudiness there. Harry seems amused at being blatantly checked out and he huffs out a laugh.

“I wasn’t really expecting a call from you so early, love. I’m sorry,” Harry teases, blowing a kiss to him.

Louis rolls his eyes, holding his phone further out from his body so Harry has a better view. He notices that the man has his headphones in, and he takes the opportunity to get him flustered. He schools his features to look solemn, eyeing Harry carefully.

“Don’t be sorry. I dunno, I just forgot how fit you were for a sec,” The flush on Harry’s face and chest deepens, and Louis’ lips twitches as he fights the wicked grin threatening to morph his faux-serious expression. He proceeds, “By all means, continue. I need you t’be strong enough to fuck me up against a wall when next I see you.”

Harry trips over his feet and just barely saves himself from falling face first unto the conveyor belt by holding on to the safety rails at his sides.

“You fucker-” Harry curses, reaching shakily to something just near the phone and a second later, the mechanical whirring of the machine cuts out. He rights himself, glaring at the camera at Louis’ sniggering as the older man pulls the towel from his head and allows his hair to flop over his forehead. Harry picks up the phone and holds it closer to his body, his intense stare tracking Louis’ movements as he loosens the towel that’s around his waist and drops both of them to the ground.

Louis ignores the sudden hunger in his gaze as he jeers, “Take a picture, it will last longer.”

His voice apparently startles Harry from his reverie and he blinks, before a big, dopey smile takes over his features.

“What, d’you miss me?” Louis pokes fun, but Harry bites his lip, his eyes dropping to the bottom of the screen where Louis knows his inked chest is on display.

“Yeah,” he mumbles, eyes stuck there for a moment before he looks right into the camera again. “Miss fucking you silly.”

It’s Louis’ turn to get flustered as his breath hitches, looking bashful as he starts to blush.

“Are you still going to Hyde?” Harry asks suddenly, and Louis blinks at the unexpected change in conversation.

He takes a steadying breath before answering, and Harry smirks a bit when he shakily lets it out, “Yeah, with a few of me mates. ‘m buzzing.”

Harry offers him a soft smile in response, the dark, almost predatory look from early erased completely from his face and replaced by visible fondness. Louis grins and leans forward, pressing his lips a messily to the camera in a kiss.

Harry laughs, blowing a kiss of his own to his boy once he leans back again. Louis looks a lot like a small child about to be taken to a fair for the first time, and Harry really is very excited. He of course wants England to win because that’s his home, but he _needs_ them to win, for Louis’ sake. He needs them to win to hear Louis’ excited babble over the phone and get all his highlights and commentary. Football’s one of the many things Louis is passionate about, and he knows that it would mean so much to him if the team brought the cup home.

“Lemme guess then, don’t call you until time’s done?” Harry inquires, referring to the match that Louis will be so wholly invested in later on.

Louis giggles. “No, of course you can call, Hazza. You’re probably the only one I’d answer,” he stops, considering his words before he amends, “and maybe Lotts.”

“That’s fair,” Harry hums, his free hand extending to somewhere out of the frame and coming back with a fluffy, white towel that he runs over his face and neck.

There’s a short lull in the conversation where Louis just looks at his boy, watching him drying himself off. His hair is sweaty where it’s pulled back off his face by a bright pink headband. His eyes are bright, and there are a couple spots on his face and shoulders were the skin is blotchy and red, likely from exertion, and Louis loves him so much.

“You’re so pretty,” Louis can’t help but confess, and Harry grins into the camera beautifully. He starts to answer but at the same time, another call comes in on Louis’ end and he curses.

“Oh, shit. Ol’s calling me,” Louis complains, and he’s about to decline it, but Harry’s voice stops him.

“Answer it, baby. I need to go shower either way. Just ring me later, yeah?”

Louis hesitates for half a second before Harry takes the initiative, rolling his eyes before insisting, “I love you, Lou. Bye,”

“I love you too!” Louis rushes out before Harry hangs up, and he pouts before answering Oli’s call.

“Oi, oi!” Oli near-yells into the receiver and Louis laughs. “Mate, I’m on my way. Make sure your arse is ready when I get there.”

** ____________________________________________________________________ **

****

Louis, Eleanor (because paps are bound to be there), Oli, Calvin and Stan all get to Hyde Park at just pass eighteen hours, after the four hour drive from Doncaster, after doing rounds to pick up everyone and grab food, and then getting lost once on their way to the park itself. The place is loud with cheers and singing and cheering already and Louis’ so fucking happy that he gets to do this with his mates. He absently wishes that Harry was there, too, but even if he wasn’t on the other side of the world, Harry wouldn’t have enjoyed it as much, since he’s not a footie fan the way they are.

 

By the time the match starts, Louis’ nursing the third pint offered to him by the young man doing refreshment rounds in the VIP area above the crowd. He finds Olly Murs, the man there with his own small party and he and his mates join them, making one large, rowdy crew.

The crowd goes mental when Trippier scores the first goal of the game, Louis included, of course. The cheers are near deafening as pints are thrown up, frothy beer almost completely covering the crowd below him for a few seconds. Louis chucks his own, yelling as someone knocks into his side. He realises belatedly that no one else in his area did it with him, save for one man on the other side of the balcony, but he can’t find it in himself to care. They’re jumping all over each other and shouting, beer and food sloshed all over the floor. He feels much more optimistic now that they already have one under their belt.  He’s loud and giddy, unapologetically so, and he can’t even find it in himself to care when an older man starts giving them sour looks from where he sits near the group.

Croatia scores and there’s applause from the good, sportsman-like members of the crowd, but Louis feels no need to pretend like he’s pleased with it. It might have something to do with the fact that he’s just finished his sixth pint and he’s starting to feel it, his body swaying just a bit.

A chorus of boos start when Croatia scores again, now that at least half of the crowd is ratarsed. When the game goes into extra time, someone starts an off-key rendition of The Rugby Anthem, one that Louis and everyone else happily joins in on. The song dies down, however, when the match starts coming to a close. There are shouted pleas and curses as each side makes more attempted goals. Louis doesn’t make a sound, his entire focus on the game.

When the final whistle blows, the din of the crowd quiets, as if everyone’s breath is held tightly in their throats. Louis himself is still in a stunned silence, mouth agape and hand gripping tightly unto his new, untouched pint. He hadn’t even gotten to chug it because he hadn’t wanted to look away from the screen for too long.

For several seconds, the whole place remains quiet, a few people whispering in what is probably disbelief. Eventually, there’s a few scattered claps that slowly turns into loud applause and cheering for England’s attempt. Louis doesn't clap with them. His shoulders slump as he's pulled into a side-hug from Oli, who’s shaking his head in shock.

The sound of his phone ringing in his left pocket startles him, and he dazedly takes it out with shaking hands and swipes up with his thumb to answer.

“ _Baby,_ ” Harry’s voice comes through, muddled by static. “ _I’m so sorry._ ”

Louis doesn’t answer for a while, glancing over at his mates whose faces hold similar crestfallen looks on all of them. He pulls away from Oli wordlessly and starts walking away from the group, setting his pint down on a counter he passes.

“I really thought they could do it, y’know?” Louis mumbles eventually, clearing his throat to get rid of the choked feeling there. He walks through the thinning crowd of people in the direction of the loos as Harry sighs in his ear.

“We all did, my love. Promise me you won’t go and get pissed because of this?”

“Jokes on you, H, I’ve gone through, like, eight pints already,” Louis laughs, despite himself. He finds the loos and pushes the door open, finding it gloriously empty.

“I’ve told you not to do that, Lou, haven’t I?” Harry asks lowly, and his tone makes Louis suck in small breath. Harry is referring to the multiple conversations they’ve had about Louis’ drinking and the agreement they had that he wouldn’t drink excessively, especially when Harry’s not physically with him. The statement in itself is pretty mundane, more accusatory than anything, but something in his voice brings Louis back to the last time they were intimate with each other. An evening spent on his knees between Harry’s legs, with his cock down his throat. His own cock twitches before it starts filling up, and Louis pushes the door closed before leaning his back against it.

“Uh- yeah. Yeah. I’m sorry,” Louis mumbles, staring down at himself in disbelief as he starts to tent his shorts.

“Why do you sound like that? Are you okay?” Harry asks, immediately picking up Louis’ inflection, concern lacing his deep voice. Louis considers lying, just telling his spouse that he’s fine, or even that he’s feeling emotional, but he can’t bring himself to do it. His disappointment in England’s loss is slowly being overcome and replaced by _need_ , a raw and overwhelming desire for release. In reality, he’s been turned on all day, something that happens when he’s really excited, but it’s all coming to its peak now. He brings a hand down to the front of his shorts and grinds the heel of his palm into his prick, trying to relieve the heat growing in his groin. His eyes flutter shut at the pressure and he bites his lip.

“Lou?” Harry calls, and Louis can hear the beginning of panic creeping into his tone.

“Talk me off, love, please?” he forces out, and he groans, frustrated, as Harry starts sputtering over the line.

“Wha- Louis, what the _hell_? Aren’t you still at Hyde? Where are you?”

“I’m in the loos, Haz. I’m all alone.” Louis opens his eyes and places the phone between his shoulder and his ear and tilts his head, keeping the device pinned there as he brings the now-empty hand up to scrub over his face. Harry is still stumbling over his words in apparent confusion, and Louis cuts him off with an impatient growl.

“Harreh. I c’n’t explain it, but I miss you an’ I need you. Wonna hear y’r voice. Just- please,” he tries to articulate, his own voice sounding foreign to him as his accent thickens with abject desperation. He curls his fingers around his length through the fabric and rubs, a small moan falling from his lips.

“Shit, you’re serious.” Harry breathes out, before there’s a subtle shift in his tone as his voice deepens further. “How much time‘ve you got?”

“I dunno, they- They wouldn’t leave me here, I think-” Louis stammers, pressing himself into his hand as he hardens fully and moaning out, " _Hazza_."

“We have to do it quick then.” Harry mumbles quietly, almost to himself. “We can’t have anyone coming in a finding you like that.”

Louis hums his assent, biting his lip harder to distract himself.

“Are you in a stall? You need to get in a stall, Lou.” Harry orders, his voice wavering a bit as he struggles to get the situation under his control. Louis moans a soft _okay_ , pushing himself off the door and staggering into the nearest stall. He locks the door behind him and rests his body heavily against it, seemingly unable to stand up for too long. He’s careful to keep his phone where it is as he undoes the bow in the drawstring of his shorts, giving himself the room to slip his hand down the front. He gasps when his hand comes in contact with his cock, the clamminess of it a stark contrast against the heated flesh.

“You sound so good, Lou,” Harry compliments, sounding breathless. “Y’ve got a hand on yourself, yeah?”

Louis hums, using his left hand to pull the shorts and his pants down to mid-thigh, hopefully far enough from his prick that he won’t make a mess of them.

“Haz,” Louis whines loudly when he gets a hand around his freed cock, and Harry shushes him gently.

“Babe, we can’t have anyone hearing you now. _I_ can’t have anyone hearing you, not like this. I’m the only one who gets to hear you all desperate.”

Louis lets out a quiet whimper at that and his hips buck forward, his cock kicking in his grip as a bubble of slick oozes from its slit. He’s so worked up, the alcohol in his system making him feel flushed and sensitive.

“’s it, baby. So overwhelmed, just from hearing me, huh?” Harry asks, and Louis nods silently as he pumps his hand over his length, like Harry can see him.

“The things I’m gonna do to you the next time I see you,” Harry growls, and Louis has to bite down on his lip hard to stop himself from moaning out as he speeds up his hand. “I’m gonna spread you out, take you apart with my tongue until you’re shaking with it. Maybe, I’ll get you to sit on my face, ride my mouth while I let you fuck my hand.”

Louis starts fucking his own hand, his hips driving forward in desperation as he squeezes his eyes shut. He blindly readjusts his phone with his free hand, before he has to slap it over his mouth to muffle a wrecked whine when he swipes his palm through the mess at the sensitive head of his cock.

“I’d eat you ‘til you came all over my hand, babe. There’s always so much, it always gets me hot seeing it. Seeing you covered in it. You’d look so pretty, you always look so good, baby. So perfect, covered in your own spunk. Mine, too. Love seeing you messy,”

Harry is saying exactly what Louis needs to hear exactly the way he needs to hear it, and he feels himself hurtling towards the edge quickly. He starts losing his footing and he stops to adjust his stance, bending his knees so he can force himself tighter against the door. He’s panting, his muscles clenching and burning as he starts again, pushing himself to come. The slick sound of his cock is clearly discernible and Louis bites the inside of his cheek at the obscenity of it.

“Fuck, L. I can _hear_ how wet you are.” Harry sounds astonished, making Louis even more aware of it.

His pricks traitorously spits out more slick as Harry orders, “Go faster. Wanna hear it.”

Louis slides his own fingers into his mouth, pressing them against his tongue and sucking on them in an attempt to soothe himself as he goes even faster. God, he’s so _close_ , his pleasure ebbing and flowing through his body as he repeatedly nears the edge and gets pulled back. He needs Harry here, he could have come so long ago if he was.

“ _Harry_ ,” Louis pants around the fingers in his mouth, his hand blurring over his cock as he nears his orgasm once again. He’s hot, near overheating under his jacket as his sweaty hair sticks to his forehead. His legs are tensed and starting to hurt, his arm is straining.

“Make your hand tighter, the way I do when I’m with you,” Harry directs breathily, and Louis complies, wheezing on an exhale at the increased pressure. He whines Harry’s name again in warning.

“Yeah, baby. I need you to come. It’s my favourite thing when you fall apart for me. Love seeing you, love hearing you.” Harry whispers, like a secret, and Louis chokes on a whine as his toes curl in his trainers. Harry continues like that, coaxing and encouraging Louis to come with gentle words as Louis fucks his fist.

Louis near bites through his lip as his pleasure starts hitting its crest, and as hard as he tries he can’t stop the low growl coming from deep in his chest.

“Yeah, love. Come for me, come all over yourself. Get yourself messy.” Harry groans, and that’s it. Louis manages to stay almost completely silent as his balls draws up and his cum starts oozing out over his fingers, save for the soft _thud_ his head makes as he throws it back against the door. Harry starts cooing at him over the line, his voice smooth and calm as Louis works himself through his pleasure, squeezing himself to maximise the eye-rolling feeling zinging up and down his spine.

Harry continues speaking to him, helping Louis come back down as he compliments him and tells him how much he loves him and how well he did.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Louis moans as quietly as he can, shuddering when he strokes over his length with his messy hand and one last wave of pleasure rolls through him. “Love you.”

“Love you too, you insatiable bastard.” Harry laughs, and again, Louis is surprised at how easily they can switch from _lustlustlust_ to playful banter. “Clean yourself up. And call me when you get home.”

With one final declaration of love, Louis hangs up the phone and brings his hand up, looking abashedly at his release smeared over his knuckles. The whole stall smells like it, not like citrus and disinfectant anymore, and it makes him bite his lip in distant embarrassment that anyone that comes in after him will smell it.

He hesitates for a bit before he opens iMessage, snapping a pic of the cooling cum and sending it to Harry before rolling off a sizable amount of bog roll from its dispenser to clean off both is hand and his softening cock.

After Louis fixes himself up and lets himself out of the stall, he checks his appearance in the mirror over the sink. His eyes look wet and hooded and his entire face is flushed. He even has to lean forward and splash water on him to shock himself out of his post-orgasm stupor, but his clothes have no questionable stains on them so he thinks he’s done pretty well. 

Once he’s let himself out of the bathroom and has re-joined his group, shyly stuttering through the questions of where he’d disappeared to for half hour and ignoring the knowing glances from Oli, they leave the venue. Four of them, now excluding Eleanor, who left in a separate van, pack up in Stan’s car and Oli starts the drive to the hotel Louis booked for them so they wouldn’t have to drive all the way back to Doncaster at this hour.

As Louis leans up against the passenger side door, his phone vibrates against his thigh and he reaches for it, seeing an iMessage notification from Harry.

“Shit,” Louis whispers, blushing as he scrambles to turn the screen brightness down before opening the picture of Harry spent cock, lying near his belly button in a puddle of cum that goes almost all the way up to his chest with the caption, _I wasn’t lying when I said I love seeing you messy_.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Here is my [main tumblr](http://dissocihate.tumblr.com/) and a link to mmy [other blogs](http://dissocihate.tumblr.com/others).
> 
> Wow I was supposed to post this like a week ago.. Lmao.
> 
> Bro why have I written bottom!Louis? I DON’T STAN. Also, I don’t really know for sure all of Louis’ friends: is he even still friends with Stan? What’s going on? Also ALSO I was really considering changing this from Larry to some other ship because I haven’t really been feeling that Larrie spirit I’m accustomed to, but it’s cool.
> 
> Also ALSO ALsoO I wanna do some age play/DDLB stuff, but idk, I've yet to make my mind up. Drop some prompts, maybe?


End file.
